


In the Warm, Dark Cave

by Agrius



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anal, Anal Sex, Gay Sex, Hallucinogens, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash, Mushrooms, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rating: M, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:46:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6503350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agrius/pseuds/Agrius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Argonian sorcerer and his Khajiit bodyguard venture deep into a cave to collect hallucinogenic spores for a love potion. But instead of the lucrative business venture they both envisioned, things start to get... well... gay. </p><p>Really, really, REALLY gay. </p><p>Gayness for days, as far as the eye can see. SO gay. (Gay.) </p><p>Please read/review!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

* * *

 

"Kiss me," the Khajiit panted amorously against where he thought my hearing ducts might be. His claws pitted marks into my wrists as he pinned me to the slimy cave wall.  "Kiss me, or I swear by all the gods I'll rip your throat out."

 

I knew he didn't mean it.  I could hear the lie peeking from behind his crass words, blunting their edges, making them not as sharp.  Kharjo was no cutthroat.  Even as his heavy iron armor weighed against my chest, making it hard for me to breathe, I still felt safe.  

 

"KISS ME!" he roared, making me wince and the cave echo.  I'd never known this distinguished old caravan guard to raise his voice before.  Sensing my hesitation, the big brawny cat growled, bared his fangs, and dove for my neck.  I actually thought for a split second that he was going to do it - that I was about to have my neck torn open and would soon die, gasping through an open wound on a shit-covered cave floor.  That my corpse would rot there in a Lover's Cave, hundreds of miles away from anyone who would even vaguely care.  But no sooner had the thought entered my mind, I felt the older man's sandpapery tongue sliding across my throat.  

 

My arms were free, wrapping instinctively around the old cat's muscled neck as a noise I had never made escaped from my mouth.  My hooded eyes closed.  I shuddered.

 

"Kharjo does not do this..." I moaned, weakly pushing against him.  It was like nudging a stone wall.  "Red-Neck does not... ggn... the spores... green pollen raining down... has negative effect on..."

 

"I don't care," the Khajiit growled.  Suddenly, sharp claws were on either side of my face.  His lips were against mine.  

 

Argonians and Khajiits don't have mouths well-suited for kissing.  It was awkward at first.  But after a time, we got the hang of it.  I say 'we' because by that point, I had joined in and was actively participating.  My scaly claws were tangled in the cat's bushy cheek fur.  We held eachother's faces.  It was weird.

 

I swear by the Hist, you could feel that stupid kitty's boner right through his wrought armor.  I cracked open an eye.  A fine layer of biofluorescent green powder dusted the top of his head and the backs of my arms - a byproduct of the red, knobby fungi hanging down from the stalactite-addled ceiling above.  The very powder we had come to harvest for one of the local alchemist who had said, and I quote:  "I will pay you a hundred septims for every single knob you bring back."  Because apparently, the fungus was the chief ingredient in a VERY powerful aphrodisiac potion.

 

Just then, a hand wandered up between my legs.  You would have thought I'd just been goosed with a fork the way my eyes shot open.  

 

"Kharjo, please... _d-don't_..." but every time he went to kiss me, I responded in kind.  It was like I needed his wide, gritty tongue in my mouth, flicking up against mine.  The moments where his body broke contact with me to remove some article of clothing were interminable.  

 

His chest piece clattered loudly to the cave floor.  Warm, sweaty fur pressed against my scales.  The feeling was indescribable.  By the gods - how had we gone so long without fucking eachother's brains out!

 

I watched in amazement as sharp claws made quick work of ripping my robes to shreds.  This would probably make me really angry once we were away from the cave, because said robes had been stitched of fine imported Netch silk with multiple health and magicka-augmenting enchantments woven in, for which I had spent enough Septims to purchase a small house.  But as it was, I was just giddy to have my bare body pressing up against his.  

 

"We... sh-shouldn't...," was the last bit of protest I could manage before I was hoisted up into the air.  My back rested further up along the wall.  I could just reach a few of the spore clusters, had I wanted to.  But now I was over him and I used the leverage to barrel down on Kharjo, fiercely gripping the back of his head and burying my tongue as far into his maw as I could get it.  

 

More armor clanged against the moss-strewn floor.  Kharjo broke our kiss just long enough to lick his palm.  His hand disappeared as our kiss resumed, but I could vaguely hear a wet slicking noise coming from somewhere beneath me.  

 

I was lowered.  I thought for a second that he was going to let me go.  I panicked, tightening myself around him, constricting him like a snake.  He merely growled and brought his huge brawny arms up to my shoulders, forcing me down whether I wanted it or not.  And that's when I felt it.  

 

If you've never been penetrated before, stop what you're doing and go try it right now.  Red-Neck is serious:  Leave wherever you are reading this, go find a man, and have him penetrate you.  It is the most...strange... bizarre... mingling of sensations.  It hurts.  It does not hurt.  It feels great.  It feels like you have to take a shit.  You want him to stop.  If he stops, you're going to yell at him to keep going.  

 

You MUST know what this is like before you read any further!

 

Well... with no warning, and without any of the perfunctory miss-miss-miss-miss-HIT action that's such a staple of intra-male relations, his tip was inside of me.  My throat made a noise.  Nuzzling and growling, his face buried in my chest, Kharjo fumbled around in his satchel, producing a small, fogged glass vial filled with amber liquid and handing it up to me.  It was one of the numbing elixirs I'd brewed for us to anesthetize us during wound sutchering.  I grabbed it, wrenched off the cork, and chugged the whole thing.

 

"I love you," he purred as he slowly impaled me.  I knew he didn't mean it - that as soon as we left the cave, his words would disappear like smoke and we'd both be left with nothing but scratches and regrets.  But that was the furthest thing from my mind right then.

 

As I slid down, he had to kiss me to muffle my screams.  

 

I had never even seen him naked.  We took different quarters in the various inns we visited, and would often travel long distances to find a large rock in a river to bathe on opposite sides of.  I had never wondered what his genitals might look like - not even in passing.  But apparently the myth I'd heard about Khajiit men being small wasn't true.  This one certainly wasn't.    

 

"Hold on to me," he growled against my shoulder.  I did as he asked, moaning, coiling my arms around the thickly-muscled bands of his neck, burying his face in my chest as he began to thrust.  I wanted him to stop.  I also wanted him to do it much, much harder.

 

My belly was wet.  I looked down.  At some point, I had apparently slipped out from my slit and was now basting the cat's rippling abs with pre-ejaculate.  I'd never been that hard in my life.  Each throb was painful.  I could have hunted with the damn thing.  Then there was thick, bushy fur against my taint.  Kharjo was hilted inside of me.  I yowled, and his claws were at my face.  Mine were at his, and once again it was like we were trying to merge mouths. 

   
Each thrust scraped me roughly against the wall.  I could feel every inch of him inside me, filling me, rubbing some deep, nervous part of me.  Threatening with each buck to split me in two.  All I could do was hold on, gripping him as if to separate would have meant certain death.

 

 

There is not much else to say.  I finished a good bit before he did, painting the older Khajiit's belly and chest a slimy white.  Then he finished inside me.  But the strangest thing happened then.  His legs buckled and he collapsed onto the ground, dragging me down the wall with him.  But once he'd regained his breath, he did not let me go.  Instead, he cradled me to his chest, arms wrapped around my back, his face buried in the nape of my neck.  He didn't say anything.  Even when his spent manhood finally wiggled it's way free and a great mess of fluid ran into his lap, he didn't say a word.  He just... held me there.

 

Now, you may think this was the last of it.  We had our time together, the euphoria faded and we left.  Not so!  As it turns out, Khajiits have a reset period of only about ten minutes.  We were in that cave for five fucking hours.  Maybe a fifth of that time was spent trying to escape.  The rest was just a blur of claws and lips and fluids.

 

When we finally emerged - damp, covered in green dust, dirt and filth unimaginable - it was well after sunset.  My arm was slung around his shoulder, his arm was around my hip and we were walking slow, since I couldn't feel the lower half of my body.  Wordlessly Kharjo started a fire and made camp.  Without making eye contact and using a bare minimum of words, he volunteered to take the whole night's watch.  I didn't protest.

 

That morning at dawn, I was awoken by a gentle nudging at my side.  I cracked an eye slit.  Turning, my bleary eyes made out Kharjo's broad frame in the dim orange glow.  He was kneeling beside me, watching me intently.  There was something in his outstretched his hand.

 

"Kharjo, w-what...," My eyes came into focus.  He was holding something above my head with a blank expression on his face.  The thing between his claws was red and leathery-looking, with odd bumps and ridges streaking all over it's surface.

 

My eyes went wide.  I searched his face for some explanation.  

 

"Kharjo managed to grab a few as we headed out," he said simply.  "Enough to cover expenses and pay for a room, I think.  This one, however..." he rocked the spore back and forth in his meaty claw, a slight smirk curling at the corners of his lips.  "... I will count as my compensation."

 

His claw closed.  Bright green dust spurted from the spaces between his fingers, raining down on me.  I tried not to breathe it in.  It was too late.  As I watched, Kharjo brought the crushed mass to his lips and inhaled, coughing loudly.  

  
Grinning, he leaned over.  I leaned up, gripping the back of his head..  We merged mouths.


	2. Chapter 2

“I love you,” said Kharjo.  Out loud.  To where someone might hear.

 

I tugged my cowl down tighter around my head, pretending not to have heard the Khajiit as I hastened my pace up the craggy mountain road.  My arms were clenched tight around my chest.  I could feel Skyrim’s arctic breeze stinging my scales through several layers of robes, piercing them as though I were wearing nothing at all.

 

“Red-Neck, I want you to belong to me,” Kharjo continued earnestly, raising his voice over the hiss of the rushing wind.  “And I to you.  For as long as we both live.  And in the Grasslands to come.”

 

Despite the chill, my nostrils flushed hotly.  Squinting up into the distance, I noticed a tiny ember of orange flickering far up the mountainside.  A bandit or Forswarn camp, most likely.   _ Perfect!   _ We’d kill the bandits, toss their corpses over a ledge, eat all their food and sleep in their tents.  Separate tents!  Where we wouldn’t have to look at or talk to one another!

 

“I thinks we should discuss this another day!” I hollered back.  “A warm day in Spring, perhaps!  Many months from now, when you will have come to your senses and we will no longer have to talk about this!”

 

But I knew that would not be enough to placate the old guard.  It hadn’t been for the past three months after the cave incident, which had seen a slow escalation from turgid glances to idle flirtation to outright groping.  The big cat was amorous.  And no matter what concoctions I brewed to cure my bodyguard of the cave spore’s effects, he kept getting worse and worse.

 

As I hastened my pace, there came a sharp tug at my neck, jerking me back.  Turning, I saw where Kharjo had grabbed the hem of my cloak as it whipped close to him.  The look in the big cat’s eyes was stern and determined.  My eyes grew wide as the Khajiit leaned in. “I love you,” he repeated.  “And you love me.  Deep down, I know you do.”

 

I blinked.  My throat was painfully dry.  Flicking my long spindly fingers, a rift opened up in the fabric of space and time next to me.  From it emerged two behemoths of dervishing stone and crackling thunderbolts - my pet Storm Atronachs  _ Üjjohrjj-Jj _ and Jennifer. The rift closed behind them, and they were left spinning and crackling in place.  Looking down at Kharjo gripping my cloak, they eagerly awaited their master’s order to turn the Khajiit into static-riddled pudding.

 

“Up that ravine, you two.” I gestured in the direction of the base camp etched in shadows further up.  “If they’re wearing Stormcloak or villager dress, report back to me.  Otherwise kill them.  And if they are Aldmeri, kill them extra hard.”

 

The twin Atronachs bowed subserviently before heading off to royally fuck up someone’s day. 

 

I watched them go before turning back to the Khajiit still holding onto my cape with an iron grip.  His gaze, while no less stern, had become tinged with sadness.

 

“What happened in the cave…” Kharjo began.

 

“SPORES!!” I screeched, trying to take a step back, slapping my cape out of the guard’s hand.  “Spores happened!  Cave spores!  Nothing else!  You are very sick!  The fungus has reduced poor Khajiit’s brain to mush!”

 

Kharjo’s pupils constricted to angry slits.  Clawed hands flashed to my chest, gripping fabric.  I gave a startled cry as I was thrust back against a large jutting rock.  The claws lifted me up on the tips of my toes. The Khajiit’s hot, wet breath plumed violently across my snout.  

 

“I am not  _ sick _ ,” the old guard growled authoritatively.  “I say this, but still you try to cure me.  And for what?  All of your potions, all your concoctions that look like swamp water and taste like Kagouti shit - for what?!   _ Nothing.   _ I love you.  If you were to die, I would be miserable.”

 

As if on cue, a badly singed Forswarn pillager rounded on our location, letting loose his best warcry as he charged at us with a spiked club.  Reacting in a flash, Kharjo drew his sword part of the way from its scabbard, striking the barbarian in the face with the pommel, breaking whatever teeth the poor bastard had.  Before he could even recoil fully from the blow, I raised a hand and lit him ablaze.  The Forswarn flailed wildly for a few moments before losing his footing on the jagged path, tumbling head over heels down the mountain amid sounds of breaking bones and muffled screams.

 

“We should go up and help,” I said with gusto, slipping the rest of the way out of Kharjo’s grasp before the bodyguard could protest.

 

Picking our way up the treacherous path, we found  _ Üjjohrjj-Jj _ and Jennifer busily attending to the task of clearing out the Forswarn camp.  Static bristled the air around us, making Kharjo’s fur stand on end.  The stench of electrocuted flesh filled the air.

 

The encampment was much larger than I had anticipated.  Some fifteen bodies littered the ground, and still more marauders were fighting for their lives.  As we emerged on the snowy clearing, a Briar-Heart turned and charged at us.  Kharjo removed his head with a practiced swing of his sword.  

 

“Lizard whore!” screeched a sag-jawed old witch, throwing up a magical barrier.  

 

“AM NOT!” I shouted back in dragon-speak.  Which, of course, exploded the witch from the inside. 

 

The fighting scarcely lasted two more minutes.  Savages armed only with sharp bones and sticks are no match for a master conjurer, a battle-hardened warrior and two lightning monsters from the Lands Beyond.  By the time we’d finished hefting the last of their bodies over the face of a nearby cliff, the stench of cooked meat had largely dissipated across the four winds.

 

And then… there was… SILENCE.

 

We stood side-by-side in the center of the blood-stained encampment, neither saying a word to the other.  I clutched my robes to myself, stifling a shiver as Kharjo wiped gore from the edge of his sword with a piece of old felt.  At last, the old guard cleared his throat.

 

“There,” he intoned, gesturing towards a fissure in the mountainside just beyond a pair of sheepskin tents.  “The Briar-Heart’s cave.  There will be a fire.  Much warmer than out here.” 

 

Without waiting for his employer’s approval, the old guard started off towards the mouth of the cave.  I stood in the cold watching him go, debating whether or not I wanted to risk frostbite by sleeping in a tent outside.

 

A minute later I emerged within the jagged antechamber, shivering and coated in a thin patina of frost.  

 

At the center of an immense igneous hall was a crackling bonfire surrounded by spits of roasted pig and racks of fish propped up to dry.  Cloves and herbs hung from the ceiling above, pickling in the smoke.  The heat and smell of cooked meat was sudden and overwhelming, causing my nostrils to flare and my mouth to water.

 

Off to one side, nestled on a stack of birch logs, Kharjo was busy fumbling around in his rucksack.  He wasn’t wearing a shirt.  “Pull up a log,” the old guard said dismissively, not bothering to glance up.  “This must have been their mead hall.  There are barrels full of the stuff over there - probably raided from that settlement we passed.”

 

I hastened to a split rail next to the bonfire opposite Kharjo, wasting no time in thrusting my gloved mitts as close to the flames as possible.  I was shivering from head to toe and couldn’t feel the tip of my tail.  Worse still, I sensed I was being watched from across the flames by eyes that were always in the process of glancing away whenever I tried to catch them.

 

The snow on my robes quickly melted.  Sighing in resignation, I stood and slowly peeled off the clinging fabric, slipping it down my arms and around my neck, standing in the warm, dry air in just my linen skivvies.  As I turned to hang up my robes on a tanning rack to dry, I could feel the guard’s eyes lancing me furtively.

 

As I went to sit, I noticed Kharjo across the way, slowly unwinding a roll of linen gauze around his midsection.  The big cat winced with each pass around his ribs.  A small dark spot formed over the surface of the sheer fabric.

 

“ _ S’wit!! _ ” I screeched.  “You are hurt!”

 

“Just a flesh wound,” Kharjo growled, tacitly ignoring me.

 

I hissed, jumping up and finding my potions pouch, rummaging around inside, fishing out a vial and padding around the circumference of the bonfire.

 

“Little wounds will become great big oozing green wounds.  Stupid kitty knows this.”

 

Swatting the big cat’s claws away, I dropped to my knees between the old guard’s legs, wrenching the cork from the glass vial with my teeth.  Snapping the guard’s clumsy wrappings with a sharp talon, I pressed my webbed claws to Kharjo’s furry chest, forcing him to lean back as I slowly edged the syrupy brown liquid over the lip of the vial, decanting the stinging fluid directly onto the wound.  Kharjo hissed in pain, muzzle wrenched, fangs bared.  A calloused hand shot up to grip my wrist, threatening to snap the hollow bones within if I dared pour too fast.  At last the vial was empty.  The salve was already starting to congeal and cake over the wound, forming a protective seal.

 

“There there,” I soothed, my voice automatically sounding babying without my meaning it to.  “Not so bad.  We will do this once more in the morning.  Wound should be healed by then, should only have to--”

 

I stopped mid-sentence as the furred backs of large fingers were gently brushed along my cheek.  The old guard was staring down at me, an unreadable look in his steely blue eyes.

 

“You pay me to save you,” Kharjo said with a sad grin.  “And yet, so often, you are the one saving me.”  His face was precariously close.  “What would I do without you?”

 

I gulped.  The position we were in was…  _ sub-optimal _ to say the least.  Me kneeling between the Khajiit’s legs, scaly fingers still sunk into the plush fur of his chest.  A warm, cozy fireplace complete with ambient lighting. Everyone in their underwear.  

 

“You could guard a caravan,” I barely managed.  “Make more money.  Not have to deal with bandits and monsters in dungeons trying to keep stupid conjurers alive.”

 

Kharjo worked his thumb gently along my scaly cheek.  I could feel a soft purr stirring within his chest, rattling up through my fingers. “I do not do this for the money.  Not anymore.  Not for a long time.”  We were all but sharing a breath.  The look in Kharjo’s eyes was one of weariness - of sadness, regret, resentment.  And most of all, of longing.

 

“When first you came to me, you could only pay me with promises of great fortune.  It has never come.  But still I stay.  Why?  Because when you are off running errands in town, I wonder if you are safe.  I wake up three, four times in a night just to check on you.  I see you in my dreams.”

 

I felt an unfamiliar stinging in my eyes.   _ Unfair!  _ I thought to myself.   _ This is manipulation!   _ Still, there was a tightness in my throat that was proving hard to ignore.

 

My face cradled easily in Kharjo’s broad, calloused hands. Our noses touched.

 

“Kharjo...p-please,” was all I could say before Kharjo’s lips pressed against mine and I was consumed by the crushing warmth of his embrace.  

 

Over the weeks we’d spent wandering the frozen tundra, I constantly worried that if we rested anywhere for too long, I wouldn’t be able to get back up again.  Now it was as if I’d been thrown into a smelting kiln.  I could taste mead on the Khajiit’s breath.  His fur smelled of smoke and sweat.

 

Strong arms encircled my back.  My face was free.  I could fight back if I wanted to.  I could badly singe the Khajiit’s fur, or at least summon  _ Üjjohrjj-Jj _ and Jennifer to wrestle the big cat off me.    

 

But the heat… the heat was intoxicating.  

 

My arms wound around Kharjo’s neck, pulling him down against me.  I found myself being hoisted up in his big, strong arms, my legs hooking around his hips as he carted me over to the nearest bed of hay, his lips never once leaving mine.  

 

I knew this wasn’t entirely my fault.  I cannot be blamed for the thickness of his fur, or how my claws seemed to get lost in it, or how the soft bristles seemed to tickle every nerve ending beneath my scales.  Khajiits are famously manipulative creatures, after all.  And yet, I knew we had no hallucinogenic spores to blame our actions on.  Everything that was happening was by way of mutual consent.  

 

The thought churned my stomach.  

 

The pads of my fingers stroked down the stratified musculature of the old guard’s back, down the gentle valley of his spine, terminating at his pert, toned ass.  I surprised myself by grabbing it roughly, eliciting an amorous growl from my older host.  

 

“Everything you do…” He panted against my temple, grinding into my upturned hips. “Everything about you… provokes me.  There is not a moment of any given day when I do not long to be inside you.  Filling you up.  Making you scream my name.”

 

My throat flushed an even brighter shade of red. I prayed that he would not notice.  My pulse raced as his calloused hands wandered over me. By the Nine… why could I not stop this?  What strange spell had befallen me?

 

He bit down gently on my collarbone, forcing a startled gasp from my lips.  My claws slipped beneath his undergarments, smoothing them down around his thighs.  When next he laid upon me, it was with the full weight of his manhood against mine, thick and heavy and pendulous.    His muscular chest felt impossibly wide as my arms banded around it.  Gods, he was massive!

 

“Let me take you,” he growled before tracing his gritty tongue up the side of my throat.  My eyes went out of focus.

 

Why?  Why must he ask me?  I was naked beneath him, wasn’t that enough?  

 

Eyes screwed shut, I swiped my tongue over my razor-sharp teeth, paralyzed with fear.  After what felt like an eternity I gave the faintest of nods.  He kissed me with a delicateness I would never have imagined him capable of.  His claw found mine and drew it up, interlacing our fingers in the hay.

 

Hearing Kharjo lick his palm, my whole body tightened with anticipation.  I knew what was coming next.  And this far into our journey, there were no numbing potions left to help me.

 

“I won’t hurt you,” Kharjo whispered, drawing one of my legs up with his free hand. “I swear on it.”

 

Touch.  I let out a sharp heave of air, gripping him.  My claws sunk deep into the fur along his back as he nudged into me.  I could feel him spreading me open.  His lips plumed warm encouragements against my cheek as I groaned and squirmed beneath him, my breath coming in quick, ragged bursts.  

 

Gods, this feeling.   _ This feeling! _

I held onto him for dear life as he impaled me.  Even though he worked slowly, the sensation of him within me had every nerve in my body firing like mad.  True to his word, it didn’t hurt.  But it certainly carried its own special brand of agony that was proving to be just as viceral.

 

He was pressing into something.  Something deep inside.  My eyes shot open as the girth of his cock nudged against it, causing all my muscles to tighten as flecks of light scattered before my eyes.

 

_ “K-kharjo!”   _

 

This voice, so high and weak, seemed not to belong to me.  Purring, my bodyguard licked my throat, shushing me.  

 

At last his furry hips were flush with mine.  I could feel every inch of him inside me, stretching me to my limits, making me full.  Rearing up on his powerful arms, Kharjo’s eyes stared into mine.  “I have never loved anyone so much as you,” he said.  And for the first time, I truly believed him. Our lips crashed together as he drew himself out, only to then slowly push himself back in.   

 

I’m ashamed to admit that I had long since emerged from my slit and was painfully hard against his belly fur.  Each thrust frotted his plush coat over it, setting my nerves ablaze with sensation. 

 

As he made slow, careful work of fucking me, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was how women felt each time they did it.  It seemed unthinkable.  Huge tufts of his back fur were gathered up in my claws.  My legs were clenched tight around his waist.

 

Each draw and hilt felt like it was going to tear me apart.  That bundle of nerves inside me was going wild.  By no coincidence I’m sure, I was dripping pretty heavily, smearing watery precum into the muscular crease running down Kharjo’s abdomen.  

 

“Hold on,” Kharjo whispered suddenly, pressing a kiss to the side of my snout.  “I want to try something.”

 

“W-wh--”  Then, by some miracle of repositioning that even I would have trouble recalling the choreography to, the big cat shifted me around, leveraging my leg up and over without ever once withdrawing from inside me.  I was now lying on my side with him behind.  

 

The flat of his hand stroked down my abdomen, past my pubic muscle.  I squeaked as his calloused fingers gathered up my badly dripping cock.   _ “Gfff!”  _  A frighteningly feminine whimper escaped me as he nibbled my shoulder.  I knew I didn’t have long at all.  The nerve bundle inside me was screaming.

 

“Say my name again,” he growled against my temple.  I could barely think.  Now free of the Khajiit’s fur, my claws gripped the bed of straw beneath me.  Sliding his free hand up, Kharjo gently gripped my throat, tilting my head back.  Biting down on the scruff of my neck, the old guard repeated his request.  His thrusts increased to such a verve and intensity that I was holding onto my handful of straw for dear life as the room around me spun.

 

Finally, once the pressure within me had grown to be too much to handle, I did as he asked.  I whimpered his name at first.  Then, as my body took control of itself, I repeated it louder and louder, until at last I was nearly screaming it, crying out as I was overtaken by the crashing wave of my own orgasm.

 

Kharjo held me close, continuing to gently knead my erection as my hips bucked involuntarily.  Once the last spurt had trailed down his knuckles and I was nothing but a panting mess bound up in his arms, I hesitated to steal an embarrassed glance over my shoulder.

 

“Don’t you… aren’t you going to…” I swallowed.  “...finish?”

 

Arching a bushy eyebrow, Kharjo grinned, his arms coiling tighter around me.  “Oh, you do not need to worry about that.  Kharjo finished some time ago.”

 

My eyes widened in surprise.  “What?”

 

Chuckling, he placed a delicate kiss to my temple.  “Oh yes. Quite a while ago, actually. But you were making such lovely noises. I couldn’t bring myself to stop.”  

 

Laying my head down upon the hay, I closed my eyes.  We were still attached.  I could feel his spent member softening inside me.

 

“Conjure one of your Antronachs.”

 

“Why?”  

 

The big cat yawned, nuzzling down into my shoulder.  “Because I’m too tired to stand watch.  And I want to fall asleep with you in my arms.”

 

Staring into the middle distance, I felt my face flush.  Why must he say such things?

 

Holding out my hand, I conjured one of my lesser Frost Antronachs to stand guard at the entryway.  Pulling down my freshly dried cloak from where it hung, Kharjo covered the two of us beneath it.  

 

True to his word, Kharjo held onto me all through the night.  He drifted off almost immediately, the wind from his nostrils tickling my shoulder beneath our covering.

 

The last thing I remember was staring into the licking flames of the bonfire, body sore, head swimming with incongruous thoughts as I drifted off into a warm, dreamless sleep.  

 


End file.
